


Heaven In Hiding

by NuriaSchnee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friendship, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Noah's Ark, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Scene: Flood in Mesopotamia 3004 BC (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tender Sex, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuriaSchnee/pseuds/NuriaSchnee
Summary: Aziraphale discovers Crawley's in the Ark, protecting a group of children he saved. After this, they start to meet every night in Aziraphale's room to drink, talk and have a bit of company. Soon, the angel realizes he's starting to fall in love with the demon and their meetings turn into a torment for his heart.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 125
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Heaven In Hiding

Aziraphale couldn’t believe his eyes when he discovered something in the Ark that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Firstly, a bunch of little kids hidden in the most remote and dark corner of it, wrapped in blankets and sleeping over plush piles of hay. Secondly, a demon sitting on a corner, watching over them and keeping a little candle lighted up. His yellow eyes reflected tiredness that was far beyond physical extenuation. There, in the depths of his gaze, there was a swirl of broken emotions.

Crawley jumped slightly at the sight of him at the doorstep, startled, and they looked at each other for who knows how long. Eventually, the demon stood up, blowing the candle, and getting out of the room.

They fought for the first time that night, throwing rough words at the other in harsh whispers. Aziraphale was tired and a disappointment he couldn’t voice out had been boiling inside him since the flood started. Crawley was just as much drained. They argued about Crawley saving the kids, going against the Great Plan, and the demon defended his actions with the truth of his demoniac nature. He’d refused to let all the kids die. He’d saved as much as he could. And he was firm, not willing at all to bend over in this particular decision. Crawley wasn’t willing to be sorry for doing what he did.

And, deep inside, Aziraphale wanted to thank him, instead of arguing. Deep inside, he was grateful for Crawley’s little rebellion against the Great Plan. But he couldn’t say it. Supposedly, he had to thwart him, be against him.

When they finished their argument, Crawley returned with the kids, fuming, and Aziraphale watched him go with sad eyes, vowing internally that he wouldn’t say a thing about the kids. He’d let Crawley protect them and do as if he hadn’t seen anything.

The next night, he returned, tentative and hesitant, to check on the demon and the kids, a bask of edibles under his arm and a few more blankets hanging from his shoulder. He’d been thinking of Crawley all day. They didn’t know each other much back then, but Aziraphale had bumped into him enough times to realize he was an atypical demon. He didn’t fit at all in the memos’ descriptions he’d received from Heaven about demons and how to combat them. Crawley wasn’t vile or cruel. He didn’t even feel truly demonic. Which made the angel’s head spin, having witnessed the demon being kind and generous whenever he thought no one was watching. He’d seen him helping women in villages, cleaning clothes by the river, and playing with kids, letting them braid his hair, or healing men that had ended up fighting for whatever stupid reason. He’d seen him care about animals, feed the poor, reassure the sick. There was a compassionate and gentle side of him that shouldn’t exist.

But it did.

So, discovering the children hadn’t been that much of a surprise. It was the way the demon’s actions warmed his heart that scared Aziraphale. He shouldn’t be feeling that fondness towards his hereditary enemy. However, he couldn’t help it. Such act of selflessness had shaken him to the core, the barrier of reluctance towards Crawley he’d tried to keep standing breaking completely. It didn’t matter why he’d been cast out, why he’d fallen, or whatever Heaven said. In the most hidden corner of Aziraphale’s heart, he knew Crawley was good.

Of course, the demon still tried to keep his façade intact. It was proper, if he didn’t want to face extinction by the hands of his lot; Aziraphale wouldn’t question it, considering he knew a greater truth about Crawley. Even so, he seemed grateful when Aziraphale appeared to bring help. He didn’t say ‘thank you’, but the angel saw it reflected on his serpentine eyes.

He stayed that night, watched as Crawley reassured the kids, fed the youngest ones, and tucked them in. Aziraphale helped, trying to swallow down that warmness creeping up his neck at the sight of the demon, too focused on the children to keep his demonic appearance before the angel. When every one of them was deep asleep, Aziraphale realized the demon actually seemed tired, so he offered him a break. Although reluctant, Crawley accepted to go with Aziraphale to his room and have a drink. He surely needed it.

There, the angel not only discovered the demon was emotionally exhausted but also cold as if he was made of ice. Apparently, he’d refused to use the blankets, leaving them all to the children, even if the days were getting colder and more humid. And, all considered, his cold-blooded nature surely wasn’t helping.

Aziraphale offered him a blanket and a cup of wine. Crawley stayed there most of the night and they talked, keeping their company.

This went on, night after night. The demon and the angel met to drink and talk under the silence of the night, hidden in a little room inside the Ark. And, unavoidably, Aziraphale sensed his feelings for the demon blooming, a new kind of love settling into his soul. Even if he’d never felt that way, he knew right away he’d fallen in love with the demon.

Aziraphale knew that was huge trouble for him. Not only he’d let the demon wander around doing his little mischief without intervening. He was befriending him. He’d _fallen in love with him_. However, he suspected it’d be fine meanwhile he wasn’t acting on it. At some point, the rain would stop, they would get out of the Ark and part ways once more. Without the demon around, he might have enough time to let the feeling grow cold and, hopefully, turn into a simple affection. If he could hold back until then, everything would be fine.

Besides, demons couldn’t love. Maybe Crawley was different, affectionate even, but he’d never be able to return his feelings. And, if he ever did, they would face extinction, most surely. In his case, he would just Fall, if he was lucky.

Nevertheless, every time he heard the demon laugh or he smiled at him, his eyes sparkling under the faint light of the single candle in his room, Aziraphale forgot momentarily how scared he was about the whole situation. It would be so easy to lean towards him and place a kiss against his lips, would feel so right… The impulse made him question everything, every time it happened, and just fuelled his fears even more.

It was getting harder to suppress his love, but he had to do it. He had to be strong and he thought he was managing it pretty well.

Until a night the demon was late to their meeting. Aziraphale was getting nervous, sitting on his pile of hay, worrying about the reason for his delay. He was about to get up and go find him when the demon appeared, slipping through the door, soaking wet and puffing.

“Crawley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, standing up. “Why are you so soaked?”

The demon moved to a corner of the room, squishing his hair and robes to get rid of the excess of water. “‘Cause it’s raining. And I had to change my way. Shem is on patrol,” he explained.

“Oh,” Aziraphale muttered, feeling a little guilty. “You shouldn’t have come tonight, if it was such trouble.”

Crawley made a dismissive grunt and kept doing his thing. Aziraphale observed him: how the drops ran down his face, lowering until reaching his chest, how the robes glued to his form, not leaving much to the imagination, how utterly beautiful he looked under the candlelight.

“Why don’t you miracle yourself dry?” The angel asked, trying not to sound too tortured.

“Hell doesn’t know I’m here,” he said. “Don’t want them to know through such stupid use of power.”

Aziraphale gasped, the realization hit him. “So, all those blankets, all the food…?” He muttered.

“Got them myself before everything drowned and… From the animals here, yeah,” he growled a little. “So what?”

He was impressed and had to swallow down the need to laugh when he imagined Crawley trying to get eggs from the chickens, or milk from the cow. He understood now why Noah’s sons were always grumpy about the animals being so stressed that there were days they didn’t produce anything. It was a little conflictive, all the situation, but he promised himself not to awake awareness about the hidden children; and he wouldn’t now.

“I can do the miracle for you, if you want,” Aziraphale offered.

“‘M fine. There’s no need.”

He sat in his mount of hay, still wet, pushing his hair out of his face, passing his hand through it. Aziraphale’s heart stopped for a moment, his body growing hot, and he turned to get the wine before doing something stupid, like staring too much.

The night went on similar to the rest, filled with wine and small talk. The difference was the soaked demon, looking too beautiful for his heart to bear. And he was clearly cold, but wouldn’t let Aziraphale use a miracle to help.

At some point of the night, after another topic found its end, Crawley puffed, standing and gripping his robes. “Do you mind if I take it off?” He asked.

Aziraphale stared at him, blank for a few seconds, processing what he’d heard. “Sorry?” He whispered, almost whining.

“‘S getting very annoying,” he explained. “You mind?”

“Uhm… I…”

It was just a body. It shouldn’t affect him like that. He was an angel, for Heaven’s sake. Shame was something human. Pudor as well.

“No. I don’t mind,” Aziraphale answered, following this path of mind.

However, he found himself holding his breath when Crawley grabbed the edge of his tunic, pulling it up and taking it off.

Aziraphale’s pulse quickened, heart hammering against his chest as if it wanted to run away. He felt his whole body heating up at the sight of the demon, lean and sinuous, his skin still toasted from a sun that stopped shinning weeks ago, and his wonderful hair falling over his shoulders. And, even if tried with all of his not to look down, he fell into the temptation, blushing at the discovering the demon had made an Effort.

Crawley let his robes fall somewhere and picked up a blanket, folded on a corner, putting it around his shoulders, covering everything but his feet and head. Aziraphale breathed again and was very thankful for the demon to opt to cover himself, even if it was just because he was cold. He doubted he could have beard one second more of the demon naked.

Maybe he’d gone too native. This shouldn’t be such a disturbance.

But the undeniable truth was that Aziraphale wanted too much. He’d been trying to deal with loving a demon, because, well, in the end, he was a being of love. Loving wasn’t something extremely strange for him. However, _this_ … This was carnal as well. And that was a line he couldn’t cross. Even if his whole body burned, yearned… _He couldn’t_. It was jumping to a bottomless pit in more than one sense.

Just in his imagination, he’d dare to touch the demon, to make love to him in that little room. He would, maybe later. He would consummate what was absolutely forbidden, just in the depths of his mind, where no one would ever know. And he would mourn what couldn’t be. Oh, Lord… This wouldn’t vanish, even if they weren’t around. It’d grew stronger. He was sure of it now.

Crawley sat again, letting out a sigh of relief, and started to talk again, although Aziraphale wasn’t following him much now. He tried to go on as if his whole being wasn’t shattering and drank and conversated with the demon.

At some point, Crawley decided to tease him about his deeds. The angel felt a question burning, trapped in his throat, and tried really hard to keep it encased there. However, the wine and the strong curiosity won over him in the end.

“Does Hell…?” He started, hesitant. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know this at all. “Does Hell send you deeds of… Carnal nature?”

Crawley looked at him, arching a brow. “How cheeky of you, angel,” he said with a smirk.

Aziraphale blushed furiously, making a sound of embarrassment and averted his eyes. “F-Forgive me, dear. I wasn’t trying to…” He stammered.

“‘S fine,” he tittered. “‘M messing with you. Why you ask? So you can… Thwart me, once this is over?”

“So,” he turned to him again, feeling his chest tight. “It’s true.”

His expression fell suddenly and dropped his gaze to the floor before him. “Yeah, but… I don’t… I’ve never done it. If I have to tempt somebody I just… I make them fall asleep and have a very vivid dream. When they wake up, they think it’s been real. Deed accomplished.”

The explanation seemed to float between them and Aziraphale’s mouth was agape. Before the lack of response from the angel, Crawley rose his eyes to look at him, furrowing with renewed annoyance.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he blurted out. “You seriously thought ‘cause I’m a demon I should be fucking around? C’mon.”

“No,” Aziraphale muttered, still trying to process everything. “No. It’s not that. I just… Well, I’m surprised, is all.”

“Why?” He furrowed more, inquisitive.

Aziraphale blinked, feeling trapped all of a sudden. “Forget it,” he breathed out, lowering his eyes to the jar between his fingers.

They were silent for a while and the space of his little room felt oppressive now, tension gathering in the space between them.

“Have you?” Crawley asked with a low voice eventually.

Aziraphale rose his eyes, cautious, not finding nothing clear in the demon’s expression. “Have what?”

“Done it.”

Aziraphale breathed in shudderingly. “No.”

“Why?”

The angel furrowed, his skin covering in goose-bumps. “It didn’t feel right.”

“Same here,” Crawley mumbled, drinking the rest of the wine in his jar. He put it down and fixed his eyes on his, as if he could see through him. “I’ve my focus somewhere else anyway.”

There was a second in which Aziraphale felt a spark, the second in which Crawley didn’t look away, didn’t seem hidden in his own façade. That spark, it felt like a breeze of hope. For a second, he thought he could reach and, if the demon reached too…

But Crawley cleared his throat, looked away again, and the barrier seemed to raise again between them.

“Plus, humans find my eyes terrifying,” he muttered, trying to sound light but not able to hide completely it pained him a little. “I can’t complain, really. ‘S what I’m supposed to inflict, no?” He stood up, sighing. “I think I’ll be heading out now. Check on the kids. I don’t want Shem finding them.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale muttered, disappointed. “Right…”

The demon stood up and Aziraphale averted his eyes when he saw he was about to let the blanket fall away. He saw sideways inches of warm skin as he moved, putting his tunic on again. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to contain the wild beating in his chest, ignoring the way he was starting to sweat.

Just when he was sure the demon was covered again, he glanced at him, just to find Crawley was gazing at him too. Aziraphale examined him with politeness, his clothes still wet, and sighed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to dry it?” He asked, worried.

“Nah. ‘M gonna get soaked again, anyway,” he dismissed.

Aziraphale focused on the sound of the rain colliding against the walls of the Ark, pursing his lips. It was still raining very strongly. He’d been so distracted that night that he hadn’t noticed it.

“Well… Until tomorrow, then,” Crawley muttered, taking a step towards the door.

“Wait,” Aziraphale stopped him, standing up and grabbing the blanket he let fall to the floor. “At least, put this over your head.”

He shook it a little, placing a little miracle on it to keep it dry, and approached the demon to put it over him. Crawley gave him a quizzical look, not moving a muscle while Aziraphale did this.

Aziraphale realized his mistake too late. When he looked at Crawley directly into his eyes, he knew he’d been trapped into the orbit of the demon, without the possibility of getting out. All he could be aware of now was him: eyes, scent and warmth. The world out of that room disappeared, rules and boundaries with it.

Keeping appearances and distances had been so hard; closing the gap between their mouths so damn easy. Aziraphale pressed his lips against Crawley’s, not thinking about anything but the need to kiss him. During the fraction of a second, all the alarms in his head started to sound, warning him that this was a mistake, until Crawley pressed himself closer, opening his mouth to welcome Aziraphale’s gesture, holding onto the back of his tunic as if he desperately had been wanting this too.

_Had he?_

They moaned into each other’s mouth, licking lips and tongues and biting, their bodies warming up as they glued, burning to join through the mere barrier of their clothes. Aziraphale wasn’t thinking for the first time in his existence. He was letting his true feelings carry him and it was _so damn easy_.

For a moment, he thought that if this would cost him to Fall, so be it.

The way Crawley was gripping his body, kissing him with an eagerness that had more of need than experience, was giving him courage. While he was there, with that strange demon, nothing else mattered.

When they parted to get rid of their tunics, there were no words. There was no need for words. Crawley’s gaze of surrender and pure adoration when they stood in front of the other completely naked was enough. Aziraphale felt loved intensely, in a way that wasn’t celestial, and he knew his senses couldn’t be fooled with that. Crawley loved him too.

They reached for each other, interlaced their hands, and slowly sank together on one of the piles of hay. Crawley laid on the top of him, pupils blown and face flushed, and they both moaned when their bodies pressed against the other without barriers, for the first time. Aziraphale intertwined his fingers on his fiery hair, committing to memory every instant, and pushed the demon down to drown in another passionate kiss.

Aziraphale didn’t know exactly where to place his hands; neither Crawley seemed to know. They clung onto each other, gripping every part reachable, gasping, moaning as their bodies moved, erections trying to get more friction. Every movement felt too rushed and too slow at the same time. Aziraphale needed him more, needed all of him, right then, in any way he wanted.

Just when one of the demon’s hand left him and he felt Crawley backing away a little, he noticed what was going on. Crawley spat over his fingers, took them behind him, seemed to be moving his hand, and when he closed his eyes tightly and huffed a moan, Aziraphale realized he was opening himself.

Wordless, he stared at the demon, looking at him through his lashes, sighing and whimpering as he did. He rose his hands to his face, utterly marvelled, pushing his curls aside to have a better look of his expression.

“You are so beautiful, my dear,” he breathed out in the end, unable to let that truth bottled up inside him.

Crawley emitted a little whine, closing his eyes tight, furrowing with pleasure and which seemed a little bit of pain. Reverent, the angel lowered his hands, passing his fingers all over his torso, memorizing the lines of his body, and when he reached his hips one hand diverted to his cock. Crawley moaned louder when he grabbed it, starting to stroke him.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” he moaned, moving his hips forward, thrusting into his grip, rapture written all over his expression.

The sound of his name sung through the demon’s voice reverberated inside him, a hot shiver running down his body to settle in his belly, exploding. He stroked Crawley faster, eager to hear him, to feel more of him.

Suddenly, with a grunt, Crawley moved, standing on his knees with Aziraphale between them and grabbed his cock. Aziraphale gasped at the touch, nodded when saw the demon was waiting for a confirmation. With supreme slowness, not hesitating for a second, he pushed down, sinking himself on the angel’s cock. When he bottomed out, sitting on his lap completely, he ripped an open moan from both their voices. Aziraphale held onto his hips, needing grounding, needing the reassurance of his presence. Crawley leaned over him, adoration in the sparkle of his eyes, and kissed him as if the world was ending.

Soon after, Crawley started to move over him, rolling his hips, raising and falling, trying what was a first-time feeling. Aziraphale watched him, whimpering at the pleasure, at the hotness of his serpentine body covering him whole, and sensed how his sinful hips moved under his hands.

“Is it good, angel?” Crawley breathed out. “Tell me if you like it.”

“Yes. _Yes_ , it’s good, darling. You’re so good,” he moaned, searching his neck to place a few kisses there. “ _Don’t stop_.”

Crawley whined, biting his lower lip and moving faster, almost with abandon already. They turned into a mess of moans, hungry caresses and looks that hid too many truths. Aziraphale wanted this moment to last forever, afraid of the consequences, yes, but much more of the demon walking away from him. It felt so lonely, every time he did, even with the prospect of seeing him again the next night. He couldn’t face an eternity of that feeling.

So he tried to make it last, tried to hold back his release as much as he could, but the power the demon had over him was too much. And Crawley seemed to be doing the same, giving him fast glances of desperation, of a want that made him tremble all over.

His beautiful demon wasn’t his. Shouldn’t be his. And as closer as he got of his orgasm, more he recovered his sense. He held back the tears, grabbed Crawley’s cock to stroke him and pushed his hips up, moving along with him. Crawley cried out, his arms trembling at his sides, and pleaded Aziraphale to don’t stop. But he was about to stop. They both had to.

They came practically at the same time, moaning the other’s name and collapsing into a desperate hug. Panting, sweating, they kept glued, savouring the last moment before the catastrophe happened.

Aziraphale let his tears fall, a soft whimper escape, still holding the demon close. However, Crawley backed away instantly at the sound, wide-eyed, shocked. Instantly, he deflated, sadness filling his expression.

“Oh, angel,” he whispered brokenly, taking his hands to his face, cupping it, drying his tears as they fell. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

_Don’t apologize_.

“This was a bad idea. I should have stopped. I should have known better,” he lamented, his eyes getting watery too. “Don’t be scared. Nothing will happen to you, I promise. No one will ever know. You won’t Fall. I won’t let that happen.”

_That’s not what I’m scared of._

Crawley hugged him again, hovering over him protectively, pressing a kiss against this temple, backing away, farer, forever. He stood up, putting on his tunic miserably, giving Aziraphale’s to him without looking up. The angel just clenched it against his chest, feeling a void opening in his heart.

_Don’t go, please. Don’t leave me_.

The demon, with supreme carefulness, kneeled before him. “Angel… I’m so sorry,” he breathed out, his voice cracking. “Trust me. It’ll be as if it never happened. You’ll be fine.”

Aziraphale couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. _As if it never happened_.

“Goodbye, Aziraphale,” he sighed, barely audible. He reached for one of his hands and places a kiss over his palm. When he let go of it, Aziraphale sensed the prayer engraved in his skin dare, the promise of a truthful demon.

Silent, the angel let the tears keep falling. Crawley, not saying anything else, stood up, leaving the room. When the door closed behind him, he let out a sob he’d been repressing.

_I love you, Crawley_.

He cried through the night, until exhaustion made him fall asleep. The next day, Crawley didn’t come and Aziraphale didn’t search for him. He sensed him in the Ark and when everything ended, he made sure the kids would be alright and disappeared without crossing paths with him.

Aziraphale didn’t know when he would see the demon again, he didn’t know if his heart would be strong enough to act as if nothing had really happened. However, he had the hope that, maybe, one day, they would find freedom. Maybe, one day, they would be able to love each other.

Aziraphale, although broken-hearted, still had hope.

Hope in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having many feelings about the Flood and Crowley lately so, well, this happened. Also, I tried to write something short for once. It was hard, really. I've no moderation with words.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
